


Chocolate

by Guanin



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: Aziraphale’s face smoothed out in delight as he chewed, eyes falling shut, eyelashes sparkling in the sun as he tipped his head back in joy at the taste of the piece of chocolate that he’d popped into his mouth. Crowley sat across from him at the table, entranced by the sight of him.





	Chocolate

Aziraphale’s face smoothed out in delight as he chewed, eyes falling shut, eyelashes sparkling in the sun as he tipped his head back in joy at the taste of the piece of chocolate that he’d popped into his mouth. Crowley sat across from him at the table, entranced by the sight of him. He didn’t mean to be. Didn’t want to be half the time, yet the angel was so annoyingly alluring when he was eating his favorite foods. Crowley understood the fixation with his one. He enjoyed a good cup of hot cocoa as often as he could, but solid food didn’t attract him whatsoever. Yet he never passed over the opportunity to watch Aziraphale eat. Sure, he hemmed and hawed at times. He couldn’t seem too eager to spend time with the angel. Aziraphale might get ideas. Might call him “nice” again. That would not do. 

Yet a treacherous, nagging little voice in his head whispered that it might just be worth being insulted in exchange for beholding the wonder that was Aziraphale munch on a piece of chocolate. He was beautiful at the best of times. How could he not be? He was an angel, for God—

Sata—

 _Whatever_. 

It wasn’t weakness to admit that an angel was beautiful. It was a fact. But an extra bit of ethereal beauty shone on Aziraphale face at this moment. He was even moaning, a tiny exhalation of pleasure deep in his throat as his fingertips curled on the tabletop, nails scraping softly, the rustle of the tablecloth drawing Crowley forward in his chair, seeking a closer look at his—

At _the_ angel. 

“Delicious,” Aziraphale murmured, eyes opening. 

His cerulean irises shone like the brightest hue of the newly formed sky of Eden long ago. 

“You really must try it,” Aziraphale continued.

Crowley had got quite good at ignoring his beseeching tone. The soft puppy eyes. The slight tilt of his head as he leaned forward the tiniest bit, as if his greater proximity might entice Crowley to give in more easily. His voice adopted this smooth, silky quality, implying that to deny his request would be folly and really rather mean, once you thought about it. If it weren’t for Aziraphale’s beatific face, Crowley would be inclined to call his attempts to tempt him “demonic”, for few demons were even half as effective in their demands as Aziraphale was. 

“I’m fine with my hot cocoa,” Crowley said, raising his mug as he leaned back in his chair, nonchalant. Aziraphale wasn’t moving him at all. “It’s all the same, isn’t it?”

“Not at all, my dear fellow. That’s like saying that sateen is the same as seersucker simply because they’re both fabrics. There’s a whole world of nuance and variety that begs to be explored in chocolate. You’re really doing yourself a disservice by denying yourself the satisfaction.”

Crowley’s brows rose behind his sunglasses. There was no way that Aziraphale didn’t practice tempting in the mirror. Just look at that face. All beguiling eyes, the enticing pout on his lips, the smooth texture of his disappointed voice, yearning for Crowley to join him in his hedonism.

Huh. Well, when you thought of it that way, who was Crowley to deny himself a bit of hedonism? 

“Alright,” Crowley said, reaching across the table to break off a piece of the chocolate bar. “But just so you’ll quit going on about it already.”

Great, now Aziraphale was flashing that gorgeous, happy smile of his that made him look like the sun itself shining on a perfect day. What angels considered a perfect day. A demon’s perfect day was bleak and stormy with a side of hail the size of golf balls, so Aziraphale’s angelic expression had no effect on Crowley whatsoever. None at all. 

He popped the piece of chocolate into his mouth. 

Well, he’d be damned again. His chews slowed as the bitter-sweet cadence of the bar melted on his tongue, delivering a burst of rich flavor more intense than any cup of cocoa that he had ever tasted. He felt his eyelids fluttering before giving in and closing them to focus fully on the pleasure thrilling though his mouth. 

_Fuck me, this is good._

“It’s alright,” he said, shrugging.

Aziraphale cast him a disbelieving look, head tilting in disapproval.

“I do believe you’re not being honest.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, groaning.

“Fine,” he ground out, throwing his head back in annoyance. “It’s amazing. No need to rub in it.”

“I would never.”

Aziraphale’s joyous grin said just the opposite.


End file.
